I’m striped in style, not dressed in flora. Not a king or queen, yet patterned, proud. I graze the plains, not the Sahara, like an artists canvas that touched a walking barcode.

I’m a cosmic vacuum cleaner, I slurp up stars and planets. I’m darker than midnight and I love to eat light. I hang out in space, don’t get too close, you’ll vanish without a trace.

I am related to water, but I am not a liquid. People often imagine shapes with me.

I multiply without birth, feeding on form. My presence ensures every calm finds its storm. The more I gather, the less remains whole. I am time's true current, taking its toll.

I am an organ, but I am also a verb. Digital me sometimes cost money, but sometimes is free. I come in many colors, but I need to watch out for the sun.